


Baseline

by MissS



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Anakin is a walking impulse, Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional ramblings about stress relief sex, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Obi-Wan thinks too much, POV Obi-Wan Kenobi, Pillow Talk, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Top Anakin Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:33:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23159098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissS/pseuds/MissS
Summary: An exploration into the coping mechanisms of the heroes of the Clone Wars.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 13
Kudos: 289





	Baseline

As a man who admittedly appreciated historical record more than the average, Obi-Wan knows that it has been multiple centuries since Jedi knights have experienced this volume of combat. The Clone Wars, as they’re being called, are a historical anomaly. He knows this is why the council is so sullen, so deeply engrossed in this, because it is unlike anything they have ever faced before.

Jedi like himself and Anakin are generals now as much as they are Jedi, commanding troops and deploying repeatedly into war zones where they are expected to be the hope and the solution in impossible situations. Asked to save hundreds, if not thousands, of lives with no more than their bare hands and the whisper in the back of their minds and hearts that they call the Force. The expectation placed on them is in and of itself exhausting, never mind the additional turmoil that wracks ones mind after the sheer volume of deployments the Jedi experienced. 

It was a psychological gauntlet, and while Obi-Wan counted himself as a fairly stable person, it was still hard on him. He knew after this was over, if it ever really was over, there would be repercussions for the way many of the Jedi neglected themselves while trying to supply every demand for their aid. And that’s why Obi-Wan turned a blind eye to some of the things he could see, some of the things he knew were happening. Wading through dead bodies and holding the cold bodies of friends, in a war like this he knew his fellow Jedi and even he himself were just trying to stay alive. Desperately clinging to whatever vice kept the nightmares at bay, stopped them from refusing to board the next cruiser or starfighter destined for some godforsaken place.

He had spent the past couple of hours tossing and turning, his sheets a rumpled mess and his mind no more settled then when he had first tried to get some rest. Now, staring up at the ceiling having surrendered to insomnia, he mulled over some of his own vices. He had rarely if ever indulged in alcohol of any kind prior to the war, but now he was grateful for a drink when it was offered, and savoured a quiet moment alone nursing a glass of something strong enough to strip paint off a ship’s hull. He was not reliant, but he noted it as a habit that had changed since the war.

His thoughts wandered to Anakin, whose presence lingered just on the edge of his own consciousness and who he was prone to psychologically stumbling over every once in a while. Perhaps he also leaned on his fellow knight a little more than he once had, he begrudgingly admitted as he thrashed around in his bed trying to find a more comfortable position. Which was why he thought his way over to the border between them, where they often bled together and became difficult to tell apart, wondering if Anakin was handling this brief stretch of downtime any better than he was.

No sooner had he cautiously reached out and begun to focus on that strange region of his mind (and undoubtedly his heart, he clenched his jaw uncomfortably at the thought) that was shared ground between he and Anakin, he felt an uneasy weight across his chest. Somewhere in the temple, Anakin was awake too, and had apparently been halfheartedly dampening whatever was going on in his mind. Obi-Wan smirked, even Anakin’s attempt at staunching the flow of information running freely between them spoke to the way both of them relied a little too heavily on the connection they had developed, considering Anakin was self-aware enough to attempt to be considerate of Obi-Wan. So many battles, so many negotiations, it had become a well-worn road they frequently travelled. And through frequent use, it had become the default.

He felt Anakin’s abrupt relief that Obi-Wan had reached out, and all of his efforts to dampen whatever it was that was brewing were completely forgotten as Obi-Wan felt a little queasy feeling the sheer volume of thoughts and emotions seeping into his mind. He doubted he would ever get used to the way Anakin’s heart and mind operated, breath hitching for a moment as he adjusted to the information lambasting his senses. Well, it was going to be that kind of night, then.

Obi-Wan sat up in bed, running his hands through his hair haphazardly, a slightly exasperated sigh leaking past his lips. Another vice, he realized, as Anakin had been trying to keep to himself, to leave Obi-Wan with some sort of boundary, but it was him who had reached for Anakin first.

He knew it was hard for the younger knight, having been only a padawan when he began to live more as a soldier than a Jedi knight. Obi-Wan could look back at his life and see a baseline during his adulthood, notice how his drinking habits had changed or how he relied a little too heavily on the boy, now man, who had entered his life some decade ago. Anakin had no baseline, he knew only the chaos of living moment to moment, he was the Hero With No Fear because he had never really known safety with which to compare danger, or if he had it was too long ago for him to remember. And so Obi-Wan resettles the sheets and returns the scattered pillows to their proper place, leaning back against the headboard, knowing that Anakin’s arrival is imminent.

A few minutes later he hears the hiss of the entrance to his quarters opening, and the sound of bare feet padding their way to his room. For such a tall man, Anakin makes a careful shadow as he pushes through the partially open door, and Obi-Wan can feel more than see the way his brow is furrowed and his lips are pursed as he hovers by the doorway. Obi-Wan says nothing, simply reaches out to Anakin, who grasps the collar of his loose sleep shirt and pulls it over his head before making his way into Obi-Wan’s bed. In that moment he feels smaller than he truly is, and he fits perfectly against Obi-Wan’s side, his arm slung around Anakin’s shoulders and feeling the sticky haze of perspiration on Anakin’s skin.

In these quiet moments where it’s just the two of them, the roles are reversed, and Obi-Wan becomes the hero. He is the beacon of warmth and light, the lighthouse in the chaotic sea of Anakin’s thoughts. It’s his favourite vice, he realizes, his cheek resting against Anakin’s mop of curls. He knows that when it started, it was for Anakin, but it has become somewhat self-serving and now it is for him as well. Because the salty smell of Anakin’s skin, the way his hair smells vaguely like exhaust and engine rooms, and the warm weight by his side is the thing he craves on the darkest of days. In a cell on some ship, awaiting execution, narrowly avoiding death during a skirmish in the outer rim, he thinks of heaven (since he’s certainly going to hell) incase it’s the last moment he lives and he’s right back here in this bed. 

“Sorry.”

Anakin murmurs, refusing to make eye contact, and Obi-Wan simply gathers him a little closer.

“I’m not.”

No, he fervently corrects himself, Anakin is not a vice. He is Anakin’s only baseline, his only consistency. He is his safe place to rest. He is the eye of Anakin’s storm, power and calm and an equal match. In some way, he thinks maybe the Force has called him to this all his life, called him to be by Anakin’s side. And so he feels no regret when he tilts Anakin’s face toward his and presses a kiss reverently to wind-chapped lips.

Obi-Wan doesn’t think of how words like ‘reverent’ likely never cross Anakin’s mind when it comes to Obi-Wan, he knows Anakin is a walking impulse and that he doesn’t believe in brakes on vehicles or speed limits or negotiations. Obi-Wan isn’t a fool, he knows who Anakin is and he knows he doesn’t have it within him to love Obi-Wan like that. But Obi-Wan has it within him to love Anakin in the slow, methodical, consistent way that leads Anakin to his bed time and time again when the world is falling apart. Sometimes, for something impulsive and heady, other times, simply for Obi-Wan to hold him steady. To be the baseline, the thing against which he measures every change, the thing that brings him down again.

He means to settle back against the pillows and fall asleep, admittedly sleeping better with the weight of Anakin’s arm slung over his waist, but it’s Anakin who convinces him otherwise. There’s an insistent tongue tracing his lips and he sighs contentedly into Anakin’s mouth, hand lazily wandering across broad expanses of golden skin. And then Anakin is in his head with his impulsive thoughts and he can make out flashes of nakedness in his mind’s eye and he knows somewhere in the darkness there’s a lopsided grin that anticipates the way his cheeks tinge pink because Anakin doesn’t need to use the word ‘reverent’ to worship him. Anakin doesn’t want words, he wants to put his hands on Obi-Wan’s skin and fingers foreign places and he wants to cuminsidehimhotandmoremoremore…

His brain is short-circuiting, he’s sure of it, because he hasn’t noticed Anakin’s insistent removal of his sleep pants. Anakin’s hand grasps him firmly, beginning to stroke him, and he gasps then mutters something close to a prayer that makes Anakin chuckle dark and deep in his chest. The thoughts Anakin is pouring into his mind are heady and more than he can handle, Obi-Wan bites out “What are you waiting for?!” and he’s almost embarrassed by the desperation and want in his voice. And all at once his knees are over Anakin’s shoulders and there’s a sloppy noise before a wet, cool finger is finding its way inside him, he strokes slow as he multitasks, and Obi-Wan tries not to lose himself. It takes a few minutes of him gasping and moaning under his breath, but they know each other better than anyone ever could, and he knows Anakin only hesitates so he can hear the breathless “Please.” come out of Obi-Wan’s mouth. And of course he indulges him.

Because the way Anakin loves is like a hostile takeover and Obi-Wan knows there is no please and thank you in his world, there is “Mine.” and “Yes.” and “Fuck.” and the way he forgets every other thought he’s been drowning in because he’s too busy consuming Obi-Wan. 

And every now and again there’s the way his chest rasps as he laughs at him, laughs at the way Obi-Wan is overwhelmed because it’s not just the fullandfastandhard that’s taking over his senses. It’s the way the boundaries blur and Anakin’s mind is in his and for a minute he shares his recklessness and he closes his eyes, knowing two can play this game, filling Anakin’s mind with flashes of freckled skin, curves and lines and ruddy hair that are there in the darkness but lit up in technicolour in their minds. The way Anakin’s breath stutters makes Obi-Wan smirk, and Anakin hiss under his breath as he seeks retribution for Obi-Wan catching him off guard.

It took a little while for Obi-Wan to realize it wasn’t about the nakedness and the release and the pent up stress, Anakin wasn’t looking for someone faceless, he didn’t want a body. He wanted…Obi-Wan. It’s that only Obi-Wan can give Anakin this, and though he’s loath to admit it, perhaps he is the touchpoint Anakin needs to be the balance. Which is why Anakin is in his bed at night, why the bite Anakin leaves on his shoulder lies next to another that’s only just begun to heal. Why Anakin’s prosthesis grips his hip hard as he redoubles his efforts, leaving fresh bruises next to those that have yellowed.

Obi-Wan is first to tumble, but ever the giver, he shares the way his brain is lighting up white hot and the way his body is shuddering through the path in his brain that links him to Anakin. And Anakin isn’t far behind, his jaw slack and his eyes shut tight, and Obi-Wan tries not to feel smug because any time he renders Anakin speechless is a win in his books.

He finally feels Anakin’s weight settle against his chest as he relaxes, so he resettles himself, arms draped over Anakin’s broad shoulders. Anakin is pressing little kisses into his shoulder, like a balm for the bites he left previously, his eyelashes occasionally brushing against Obi-Wan’s skin. They’ve reset themselves and Anakin’s mind is clear as it wanders next to Obi-Wan’s.

“You’re too good to me.” he mumbles into freckled skin, and Obi-Wan smirks and shrugs gently “I try.” pressing a kiss into Anakin’s hair and risks tightening his hold on him, closing his eyes as he breathes deeply and curses himself. Because this is now Obi-Wan’s baseline, the steady rhythm he wants his life to return to. He hopes that even when the war is over he’ll still smell Anakin on his sheets, wake with his prosthesis digging into his side despite the supple leather glove he wears and sometimes doesn’t, trip over his belongings while making trips to the refresher in the middle of the night, make a more permanent space for Anakin’s ever present R2 unit to power down each night. 

He can’t help but tease him, it’s what they do, after all “I didn’t know I was your turn on.” he grins, thinking back to the images of himself he supplied to Anakin’s mind that had, quite literally, driven him wild.

“Fuck off, you know you’re the only one who does this to me.“ Anakin huffs in reply, feigning insult, but it’s the truth. The only one who quiets his mind, the only one who holds him steady, the lifeline that keeps him alive in this war. Obi-Wan is the secret the holonet will never get ahold of because it's hiding under their very noses, when the sun hits Anakin’s bronze hair just right during an afternoon press conference and he’s literally the golden boy, Obi-Wan will be by his side or in the shadows nearby. Anakin is everyone else’s hero, but Obi-Wan is his. And Obi-Wan thinks it might be alright if no one ever knows, because he likes to be the thing that makes Anakin strong, makes him safe, makes him happy, keeps him coming back again and again.

**Author's Note:**

> ...I felt compelled to write something a month or so ago about how every Jedi involved in the Clone Wars went from part time diplomat/monk with a laser sword to soldiers with a helping of PTSD and laser swords, and then it just turned into PWP. And now I'm posting it, sorry?


End file.
